Sylus stepped forward first. His voice was low, clipped, measured, his fingers twitching near the twin runed daggers at his side.
Sylus spoke first, his voice low and clipped, fingers twitching near his daggers. "I'm Sylus, a skirmisher. I fought alone in my world, surviving a fallen territory with these."
He tapped the twin runed blades at his side. I'm… skilled in assassination." His eyes flicked toward Karl, the sharp edge of solitude softening slightly under the new bond.
Karl met his gaze, sensing the sharp edge of solitude within him. A predator forged by survival alone…
Next came Veyra. Her bow was already half-raised, arrow sliding against the string with the ease of practiced hands. "Veyra, Archer," she said, her tone cool, precise.
"I hunted in forest to live, my Lord." Her sharp eyes held Karl's for a heartbeat too long, then lowered with quiet acknowledgment.
The silence was broken by Dren's booming laugh. His mace struck his shield with a dull thud, echoing across the clearing.
Dren's booming laugh broke the silence as his mace slammed against his shield with a dull thud. "Dren. Brawler. I stood my ground against raiders and warbands when no one else would. I fought to protect what little I had and survived through sheer strength."
Sylva's words slipped in quiet as a breeze through leaves, her vine-tangled hair framing eyes both serene and strange. "Sylva. Botanist, alchemist. I lived off the land, coaxing life from wastelands, using plants and herbs to survive."
Last came Toren's tone was gruff, steady, the weight of his hammer evident in his posture. "Toren. Forger. I shaped and repaired tools and weapons to endure, living day by day by my craft, always keeping myself fed and sheltered in a harsh world."
Karl nodded, his expression firm but welcoming. "You're not just summons—you're allies," he said, letting the words sink in.
"This Sanctuary is our home, but it's under threat. The barrier falls in less than two days, and we face a wolf pack—two Bronze II, two Bronze I—and a bronze III serpent guarding a crystal mine. We've got a lot of work to do."
He turned slightly to Lysa, who nodded and fell into step beside him. Together, they led the newcomers slowly through the Sanctuary, letting each detail unfold in measured pace.
They moved past the treehouse first, the wooden walls rough under Karl's hand. "This is where we rest and coordinate," Lysa said, voice steady, pointing to sleeping areas, racks of supplies, and notes pinned carefully to boards.
The herbal plots came next. Sunfire Fruit glimmered faintly in the morning light, Spirit Leaf and other herbs growing in neat rows. "Mira tends this," Lysa said. "She brews tonics and poisons from these plants. Her work keeps us strong and our enemies weaker."
After showing the Sanctuary's key areas, Lysa led the new allies down a narrow wooden walkway toward the central firepit, where the previous summons and core members gathered. The air was thick with the scent of herbs, smoke, and the lingering tang of meat from the Razorhide Bear.
Lysa's voice was calm and steady. "These are the others who protect and sustain the Sanctuary. You will work alongside them."
Mira, our herbalist. Grok, our warrior, holds the line with his shield and club. Thorn, our Vine Wolf, now Bronze II, scouts and hunts. Ember, our Stormfeather Falcon, watches from above and attacks when needed. Renn, our scout, sets traps to guard the barrier."
She let the words settle in the air, giving each summoned ally a moment to absorb the scope of their new home. Every glance, every gesture, emphasized the careful, interwoven balance that kept the Sanctuary alive—and how they were now part of it.
Karl stepped forward, letting his gaze sweep over the five newly summoned allies. He let the weight of responsibility settle in his chest for a moment before speaking, his voice calm but resolute.
"We've got enough food for many days, three Level I Essence Crystals, and twenty Summoning Shards," he began, his tone precise, deliberate. The numbers were small, yet precious, and he wanted everyone to understand their value.
He turned to the combat-oriented summons first. "Sylus, Veyra, Dren—your skills in battle will be critical for what's coming. You'll need to patrol the perimeter, assist in hunting, and be ready to strike at any threats that test the barrier. Learn how the forest moves, and remember to conserve your strength; efficiency matters more than brute force."
Sylus's fingers twitched near his daggers, eyes narrowing slightly as he nodded. Veyra adjusted her bow, string sliding smoothly across the notches, and Dren's grin widened, his massive shoulders shifting in anticipation.
Karl shifted his attention to the quieter figures. "Sylva, you'll work with Mira. Focus on boosting our resources, preparing tonics, poisons, and anything that can aid us in survival and combat. Your knowledge of plants and alchemy will strengthen everything we do here."
Sylva inclined her head, fingers brushing absentmindedly against the vines in her hair. Her soft, almost wind like presence promised patience and precision, exactly what Mira needed.
Finally, Karl looked at Toren. The forger's hammer rested heavily in his hand, eyes already scanning the materials stacked nearby. "Toren, start crafting with the weapons and materials we have. See what can be reforged, improved, or made entirely new. Every tool and weapon counts—we cannot afford waste."
Toren's calloused hands flexed around the hammer. "Understood, Lord Karl," he replied in a low, steady voice, his gaze briefly flicking to the other summons as if measuring where his work might complement theirs.
Karl exhaled slowly, letting the orders hang in the morning light. Each summoned ally had a role now, a place in the Sanctuary's fragile balance. He watched them adjust, moving deliberately toward their tasks, testing the weight of responsibility as he had.
The day stretched ahead of them, long and measured. With food secured and tasks assigned, Karl could feel the rhythm of the Sanctuary beginning to settle—new members integrating, each small movement strengthening the whole.